


The Waitress/The Witch

by Bittie_sme_1989



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Blindfolds, Dream Sex, F/M, Finding herself, Magic, Mates, Mental Link, Past Mental Abuse (Mentions), Vaginal Sex, Waitress - Freeform, Wet Dream, dream - Freeform, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 02:27:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7995307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bittie_sme_1989/pseuds/Bittie_sme_1989
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Britt is just a regular waitress at a shitty diner working with her best friend. I mean, there is the prostitution on the side, but that's just for extra money. And it's not real sex...sort of. Until the man of her dreams, quite literally, walks into her life. From that moment, her life is upside down. It's a crazy, crazy world; it just got crazier, and a whole lot more fun!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One: Oh, Boy...

Chapter One: Oh, Boy  
What have I gotten myself into? A low wage waitress, turning tricks on the side with aging men who could care less about how I look because they can’t even see me! Is this what I’ve become? I guess…  
Work sucks. When did server become servant? And when did I have to start getting wet naps? The napkins are right next to you, use your brain! And why do I have to wrangle someone else’s kids. I have no maternal instincts, I am not a mother, I have no bonds to them… control the children already! I’m at work now, and these kids are driving me nuts! The worst feeling in the world is being run down and hearing the front door open. This time was different.  
Tall, muscular, not too dark but not too light skinned, chiseled features, brown hair and blue eyes. Well…not quite. More like just shy of 6 feet tall, kind of buff, but probably not more than I. He was fair skinned with brown-red hair and fiery green eyes. Those eyes…they could see right through me. Even though he wasn’t Mr. Dream-man, he still made my head spin.  
I take the table with him in it; get his drink order-Captain-n-Coke, extra lime-just like me. Wow. He looks like a painter or writer, some sort of existential existence with no pay, but big pay off. Anyway, simple order, simple conversation, simple good-bye, and he was gone. I’m not sure why, but that man had my body in wracks. I was thinking of him all night. How much I want to be undressing for him, instead of 91 year old Mr. Gillins, who only wants to look, not touch (blood pressure issues-ya know). I guess his visit helped me out because at least now I can imagine a nice young face rather than wrinkles and tubes.  
At home the visions of his face keep me reeling. I’m going to sleep, but my dreams allow no rest. It’s starting. I’m at work talking to the man, and he tells me that I’m beautiful. I ask to see his stomach muscles and he just laughs as he pulls his shirt up. Suddenly the room changes into some place that I’ve never been. There are candles surrounding us, a queen sized bed with what feels like Egyptian cotton, or maybe home spun silk. The pillows are what seem to be feather down with satin lining. The feeling of these materials on my bare skin was almost orgasmic in itself. He begins to disrobe for me, as if I am one of his clients and he were the pay-as-you-go-trick, rather than me. He slowly pulls the shirt up over his head exposing a flat stomach and strong arms, but no real definition to him. He owned a set of broad shoulders with overly protruding collarbones. God, he looks so hot with his pants sitting that low on his hips and no shirt on. I want him to take me.  
He lays me on the bed, the feeling of the sheets rubbing against my skin feels like heaven. My body begs him to touch, but he avoids the temptation. As he caresses my face I can feel a tingle between my legs, immediately sending me into a much needed feeling of arousal. He moves his hands to my neck, then my shoulders, and up and down my arms. Goosebumps, I have goose bumps…I love goose bumps. He is moving agonizingly slow taking off my shirt. I feel the need to tear off my clothing and ravage his body, but I realize that I can’t move my limbs.  
He gets my shirt off, exposing my stomach and ample breasts, neatly concealed in a black lace bra (which I don’t even own). His hands fumble with the straps of my bra, immaturely and yet, somehow, masterfully. He pulls my undergarment and shows himself my breasts, admiringly, and he gently touches my left breast with his soft hands. I start to tremble. His mouth meets my right nipple, which is standing at attention just like his tool. I need him, to touch, to feel, to fuck.  
Finding control of my limbs, I begin to fumble with my counterpart’s pants. Unbutton, unzip, and then he holds my arms down. But I need to take him out of confinement, I need to see the head, glistening with precum, and the thick shaft pulsing at me, but he refused to relinquish his control over me. He in turn begins to unbutton my pants. But he does so in no rush, which pains me to the point of tears. He brushes his calloused-but-smooth fingertips over my hips, pulling my clothes along with them, showing him my lack of panties and my bare naked pussy, which he looks at with a longing desire. He tells me he’s never seen such a wonderful being before and asks if he can taste me. His tongue slides over my clit, soft at first, then increasingly harder and faster. With each increase of his pace, my heart rate speeds bringing me to a short, but blissful climax. I felt bad for spoiling his perfect mouth.  
He looks up from his tedious work and smiles showing his perfectly aligned teeth. Maybe he had braces as a teen. Can you imagine that? The guy who just brought me to the edge of my universe and back with prepubescent pimples and braces, probably glasses too, whacking off to Playboy, or Hustler, or Penthouse while his mom calls him for dinner…ha! Even with this teenage Casanova picture in my head I still found him to be the most attractive man I’ve seen to date.  
He lies down next to me.  
“You never asked my name. Is there a reason? I know yours, it was on my check, but you never asked me for mine” The sound of his voice makes my head spin. A deep tenor, high bass, cotton and brass together with satin and silk.  
“It never occurred-“  
“Don’t ask. It doesn’t matter now” His hands begin to fondle my breasts, while he looks at my body. The desire in his eyes is unbearable. I tackle him, straddling his not-too-wide hips beneath my strong thighs, squeezing him till he moves his pelvis toward me. The bulge of dick that sits beneath my clit made me hotter than I ever thought that I could be. I grinded on his bump, letting it rub my clit; groans begin to form in my throat, so I stifle them quickly. Beads of sweat start coloring his forehead and face as temptation exerted from me is absorbed by him.  
I pull his pants off and just began on his boxers when he stops me and brings his face to mine. His kiss is so passionate I feel a tear start to form behind my bewildered eyes. Never before had a man kissed me like this, probably never again either. I can’t quite tell when he slips his underwear off completely, but the sight of his thick head and muscular, veined shaft in front of my face made me feel the need to put my mouth on it, not just to taste. To devour.  
He tells me to get on my knees and puts a blindfold on my head. Thinking he wants head I open my mouth, but instead I feel his presence behind me, pushing my shoulders down and rubbing his cock along my wetness.  
As he puts the head in it gets hotter, the candles get brighter giving me a blood red shaded view of the room’s shapes and objects with no features. Slowly his cock goes deeper and I feel hands gripping my hips, tightly and still gently, pulling my body closer to his. Finally! He’s fully inside, pushing against muscle and body weight, thrusting slow, hard, fast, soft, meaningfully, and meaningless, needy and yet not. He begins to climax; groans and noises begin to climb up his throat. Finally I hear his deep voice turn in to a sharp, high pitched squeaking “Beep, beep, beep, beep”  
Damn! The alarm clock!  
I hit the stop button and get up to my plain white and grey apartment, go to my plain job at the diner. Work sucks. What have I gotten myself into? Maybe I’ll see that man again, maybe not, but at least I still have my dreams.


	2. Holy Shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to reality, back to work. But some things are going to change for our girl, and in ways that she never thought possible...

Chapter Two: Holy Shit  
Maybe it was all my imagination. Maybe I was simply still dreaming. Whatever it was, the diner was even emptier than I thought it would be and that let my thoughts wander. I thought of yesterday and that man that I didn’t know, but knew more intimately than my last boyfriend. I thought of his mud and copper hair, imagined dimples in his cheeks. Created a chest molded from wet putty and put on a rack to dry, leaving a space for the next layer of putty to be added to form the small, masculine beads of nipples which would entice Aphrodite herself for a taste.   
The door decided at that time, when I was day dreaming of licking the dream man’s imaginary nipples and feeling his dreamt up stomach, to open in a loud WHOOSH of air. Heat blasted me from outside, the August wind pushing back the chill from the air conditioners. It was him.  
He stood there in the doorway. All just shy of six feet of him, muscles tight, bunched as though bracing for an attack of some sort. He was breathing heavily; he didn’t seem like a smoker, so the heavy breathing must have been from an intense work out or intense sex. I was thinking workout. Come to think of it, he was staring right at me! And he looked really, really angry. What had I done? I hadn’t hit any cars or people on my way in, I hadn’t kicked someone’s dog, I hadn’t even had an order to fuck up yet today! How dare he be angry at me?  
Wait…had I double charged him for his meal…or drink…or did I get his number and never call…did he have food poisoning from something he ate here? Did he even eat here?   
He stood there, staring at me, make that glaring at me, and letting all the cool indoor air seep outside. I felt like there should have been an audible hiss, like a balloon letting the air out. It started getting really warm inside the diner, and when the air conditioning is all going outside then all the heat from the kitchen is drifting into the restaurant proper. This could get ugly. Especially since Kiley was coming out of the kitchen and had the look of murder on her face.   
“You coming in, or going out? Either way get the hell outta the door and quit staring at my wifey!”  
“I’m not your wifey, just a fling and a half on Tuesday nights.” To Kiley and “But really you should pick one. Air conditioning gets expensive this time of year.” To the man in the door. He looked like he didn’t know what to do. He stared between Kiley and me, opening and closing his mouth, as if he had something to say to both of us and decided before saying it that he shouldn’t. After about his fifth time going back and forth with his head he still hadn’t moved. Kiley glided over to him, on heels-of course-and yanked on his arm.  
“I said get the fuck out of the door. Are you deaf…no wait, are you deaf? Really deaf because then I could understand-“  
“I’m not deaf woman, and get your hands off of me, now!”  
Oh boy, this could get bad. Kiley pulled him toward her with her right hand, kicked the door shut with her left foot, and dropped his arm so abruptly that he half fell against the half counter set up for exiting patrons. She came so close to his face she could have licked him, and said, “My name is Kiley, not woman. It’s right here, sewn into my shirt. Sorry, I thought you looked smart enough to read. Guess I was wrong.”  
I started toward them. Diffusing a Kiley situation can go one of two ways. Either everyone gets out safely and she offers to get everyone a drink-even the person who had so grievously offended her in the first place, you know out of good spirit-or someone got hurt. I’m not sure how it worked but she was never the one getting hurt, not seriously at least.   
“I’m here to see the waitress I had the other day,” I hear him mutter, “And I can read, thank you.” I was at Kiley’s shoulder now, trying to pull her back, but since she’s a good five inches taller than I am it’s not really the best leverage.  
“I got this Ki. You can go back to the kitchen. If it comes time to kick some ass I’ll give you a yell, and I’ll hold him while you hit him, like always”  
“I know you got this, B, just don’t want you to have to hit someone and lose your job. Thin ice and all that. But I got eyes on you.” And with that she walked away, slinking in movements too graceful to be natural, and too natural to be practiced.   
I looked to the man of my dreams (pun totally intended), and he seemed even more agitated than he was five minutes ago, standing in the doorway glaring his perfectly green eyes at me. Funny things, those eyes. Most people have a green that have yellow or blue. Not him, his eyes were the most perfect shade of pure green I’d ever seen on a human face. It was this moment, staring into the clarity of his inhuman green eyes that I heard something that solidified my assumption of his humanity.   
“What the hell have you been doing in my head?” His voice boomed inside my brain. It was like having speakers turned toward your ears on volume eleven on a ten dial. I started to cover my ears, then stopped, realizing that the sound was coming from between them, not outside of them. I looked at him, and my face must have been as shocked as I felt because some of his anger faded away. He looked at me more sincerely and asked, out loud thank you, “What are you doing in my head?”  
“Excuse me? I think you were just in my head. What the fuck was that? How did you do that? Why are you here and how are you in my head like that and how do I answer questions that I can’t even possibly think of? Why am I asking this?” all came out in a two second blur of words and tangled speech, then I took a deep breath and settled for an ineloquent, “What?”  
He stared at me for a second, like he was gauging me, and then started laughing. The sound was so abrupt that I jumped, and as I jumped I heard the door to the kitchen open, and some very dainty clicks that could only mean one thing: Kiley was back with a vengeance.   
She rounded the last booth and looked right into his green eyes and said something that my brain couldn’t wrap around, no matter how hard I tried, because what she said made no sense. What she did made even less sense than what she said.  
“Get out of my diner, little witch. You have darkened my coven’s area, and as the High Priestess it is my duty to get rid of any dark spots.” And with that she closed her eyes, opened the door and tossed him a clear fifty yards into the parking lot. What makes this so confusing was she did this all with no hands.

**Author's Note:**

> First Chapter complete. Please review and reply. Let me know if I should continue or not. I have the first few chapters ready and will post them if wanted, but I won't know until I see reviews!


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